My Dear Elsie
by evitamockingbird
Summary: Mrs. Hughes finds a letter addressed to herself on the floor outside the butler's pantry. She doesn't have to open the letter to discover who wrote it; she would know his handwriting anywhere. This takes place shortly after the end of the S3 Christmas Special.
1. A Letter

After breakfast had been served, eaten, and cleared, both upstairs and downstairs, Mrs. Hughes headed to her sitting room to look over her household accounts. A few other servants bustled about, but the midmorning lull was the best time of day for her to take on this work. She reached her door and was about to go in when she noticed a piece of paper on the floor near Mr. Carson's pantry. Rubbish lying about on the floor would never do, so without a thought Mrs. Hughes picked it up. It was a letter, and she was surprised to find that it was addressed to her. Only her name was written on the unsealed envelope, in a handwriting very familiar to her. She paused just a moment before pulling out the letter and reading it.

_My Dear Elsie,_

_If you are reading this, there are two things you must know. I love you and I am sorry._

_I am very much alive as I write this, with no ill health or expectation of leaving this earth anytime soon. However, I believe Mr. Crawley's death should have taught us all, if we are willing to learn, that life can be cut off suddenly and senselessly and that there is no way for any of us to know when death may come. I intend to tell you myself just what you mean to me, Elsie, but in case something should happen to me before I get the chance, this letter will tell you that you were loved and cherished. It will live in my coat pocket until the day I tell you, and then it will be consigned to the flames. If I die before I tell you, you will read my feelings here._

_I remember well when you first came to Downton. It would be romantic to say that I loved you from the first moment I saw you, but it would not be true. I thought you very pretty from the beginning, though not as beautiful as you are to me now, but the rest happened gradually. We worked well together, and we became friends. We had our disagreements, of course, as we still do, but I always knew I could count on you in a crisis, in a professional sense as well as a personal one. Dealing with difficulty and pain makes one stronger, and I think we have grown stronger together. We have seen a lot of joy and sorrow together over the years, and you have become my dearest friend. You have a sharp tongue, but a kind heart, two qualities which somehow combine to soothe and calm me as nothing else could. You soften my sharp corners. Without you, I might be a despot. The entire household owes you thanks for preventing that. I thank you as well._

_When you were ill and feared the worst, I feared it with you. Mrs. Patmore told me, Elsie, and you must not blame her, for I freely admit I tricked her into telling me. I did not sleep well at all, the thought of running Downton without you by my side filling me with dread. When Mrs. Patmore came at last and told me that all was well, I suddenly knew my heart. I knew that I loved you, and that I had loved you for years._

_I hope I have since communicated some small part of my feelings, with a smile, a glance, or a word. I try to show myself your friend by my actions, although I know at times I fail. Sometimes when I do not know what to say, I resort to sharp words, and you deserve better from me. I hope you will forgive me for those lapses._

_Elsie, you know that I prefer to do things properly, but I'm a little at a loss as to how to go about being in love properly. I will find out how it is done, though, and I will find a way to tell you. I will pull this letter from my pocket when I'm alone and read it again and again. It will sit on the table in my room while I sleep and in the morning I will put it back in my coat pocket where it will lie next to my heart as I go about my day. And then one day I will tell you everything, and I will burn the letter, for it will no longer be necessary._

_If it is found in my pocket, it means that my mortality has won out over my determination. _

_I love you, Elsie, my lass. I am sorry I never told you._

_Sincerely,_

_Charles Carson_

Anna came upon Mrs. Hughes just as she finished reading the letter. She was seated on the settee, staring at the paper in her hand, a variety of emotions playing across her face.

"Mrs. Hughes, are you all right?" Anna asked. "Have you...have you had bad news?" she asked, gesturing to the letter.

Mrs. Hughes shook her head to clear it, then smiled at Anna. "Oh no, nothing like that. I'm just a little surprised is all," she said, slipping the letter into her pocket and standing up. "Is there something you needed, Anna?"

"I just had a question about dinner tonight." Anna paused. "Are you sure you're quite all right Mrs. Hughes? You look a bit peaky." More than peaky, she had tears in her eyes, and she trembled a little. On the other hand, she seemed to be biting her lip to keep her smile from growing wider.

"I'm fine, Anna," Mrs. Hughes insisted. "Now what was it you wanted to ask me?"

Anna looked a little doubtful, but Mrs. Hughes listened to her question and they discussed the dinner plans. She left the housekeeper's room feeling less concerned, but quite a bit more curious.

Mrs. Hughes turned back to her room, and her mind returned to her original purpose. She sat down at her desk and opened her account ledger, but the numbers made no sense to her this morning. Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from. Her heart was pounding, she felt breathless, and her insides twisted around, resulting in acute feelings of both pain and pleasure. She knew love, and that this was what it felt like, but now the sensations were heightened by the astonishment of reading his letter.

So he loved her. She had wondered, suspected, doubted, but could never feel sure one way or another for more than a few days at a time. She knew that he cared, of course, that they were truly friends, and that even when they were most at odds she could count on him when it came to the things that mattered most, but she was glad to know the whole truth at last. She felt almost giddy, and she knew it would be a challenge to appear normal until she saw him next. All that was left now was to decide how to proceed, and Mrs. Hughes had a pretty fair idea of what she would do next.

_To be continued..._

**Note: I lifted a line from Jane Austen's Persuasion, from a point where the novel's heroine has just read a letter from a man who has loved her for years: "Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from."**


	2. Evening

Mr. Carson's day was quite busy, though ordinary, which he counted a blessing these days. There had been a great deal of tragedy at Downton lately, and a day like today left him tired, but content. He would sleep well tonight. In spite of his weariness, however, he would not pass up his evening talk with Mrs. Hughes. There wasn't always wine left from dinner, but there was always a little chat.

"Come in, Mr. Carson," she said, greeting him before he could knock on her sitting room door. She was already pouring the wine, and she handed him a glass as he walked in and sat down. Mrs. Hughes took a sip of her wine, but did not sit down on the other side of the table. Instead she fiddled with knick-knacks on the shelf. "And how was your day, Mr. Carson? I hardly saw you downstairs today."

"It was a busy day upstairs. Nothing out of the ordinary, but you know as well as I do how some days are just more hustle and bustle than others."

"That I do," Mrs. Hughes agreed. She tilted her head to one side. "Mr. Carson, what have you done to your coat?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Carson stood up and looked down at the front of his coat. "If something is wrong with it, it must be mended at once."

"It's in the back, where you can't see it. You'd better take it off and let me have a look," she said, setting aside her glass and approaching him.

"Very well," he answered, trying not to look at her as she helped him out of his coat. He couldn't avoid her scent, though, or the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. She took the coat and inspected it, turning away from him to get the light to fall properly on it.

"Sit down, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Enjoy your wine. I'll be done in a moment."

He obeyed, taking his seat again and watching her as she fussed over his coat, examining it inside and out.

"Well, I think I must have imagined it," Mrs. Hughes said at last. "I can't find anything wrong with it. Put it back on and I'll have another look."

Mr. Carson stood and donned the coat again. Mrs. Hughes circled him slowly, tugging at the coat a few times and, for one very long moment, resting her hand on the middle of his back. _What was she doing?_ he wondered, feeling rather warm.

"Well, there's nothing," she said with a shrug, when she had returned to stand in front of him. And then, very softly: "You look perfect."

For a few seconds they stood looking into each other's eyes before Mrs. Hughes turned away to sit down. The faint blush that rose to her cheeks did not escape Mr. Carson's notice. "I'll finish my wine now. I suggest you do the same. It's getting late, Mr. Carson."

"Indeed," he agreed.

They sipped in companionable silence and before long both stood up to leave the room.

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson said, standing in the doorway.

"Good night, Mr. Carson."

"Thank you for always taking such good care of me," he said softly, watching her face.

Mrs. Hughes smiled at that, a wide, brilliant smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Mr. Carson felt very warm all over and couldn't help smiling back into those lovely eyes. Oh, all of her smiles were wonderful, even the saucy smirks she directed at him sometimes when they argued, but this one was rare. She looked radiant.

Mr. Carson hated to end the moment, but after gazing at her for several seconds longer than he thought he should, he left the room. As he climbed the steps to the attic, he patted the letter in his breast pocket and felt it crinkle. He was sure it would soon be nothing but ash. He would tell her tomorrow; he would find the time. When Mr. Carson reached his room, he unbuttoned his coat again. Goodness, what if the letter had fallen out of his pocket while Mrs. Hughes was inspecting his coat? He laughed to himself as he took the letter from his pocket and placed it on the table. He took off his coat and hung it up, but returned to read the letter as he did every night.

As soon as he picked it up, he knew something was wrong. Three weeks of perusal had worn _his _letter considerably, but the letter now in his hand was crisp and unfrayed. He gasped when he looked at the envelope and found his own name, written in the unmistakable handwriting of Elsie Hughes. His heart pounded in his ears as he lowered himself into the chair to read.

_My Dear Charles,_

_If you are reading this, there are two things you must know. I love you and I am not sorry._

_I know you did not intend for me to read your letter while you still lived, but I found it on the floor in the passage downstairs. The envelope had my name on it, so what could I do but read it? It is in my pocket now, to stay with me as I work. I will most definitely read it again before I go to bed, but also before that if I have a moment to myself at any time during the day. Thank you for writing such a beautiful letter. I am glad this accident made it possible for me to read it and respond to it, in the manner your eloquence deserves._

_I can't say precisely when I started loving you, or when I knew I loved you. As you said, it happened very gradually, over years of shared joys and sorrows, but we've now found our lives and our hearts intertwined. I can only look back and bless the day that I came to Downton, the day I met you._

_Charles, you mentioned in your letter that Mr. Crawley's death must make us all think about how none of us knows when we will die. I have thought of that often since before that tragedy, since even before Lady Sybil's death. When I believed I might be seriously ill, my mind leapt with regret to all of the things I wished I had done, but I could soon see that such a train of thought was pointless. What I tried to do then was reflect on everything I had already accomplished in my life and, after I received the favorable report from Dr. Clarkson, on what good it was now within my power to do._

_Here in our hands, Charles, is an opportunity to do something wonderful. We may not travel the world or do great deeds, but we can make one another happy. Can you think of many things better than seeing the person you love most in the world smile? I cannot._

_I will be in my sitting room early tomorrow, before the others are up. Come and see me, Charles, and we will talk. You've been practicing for several weeks now and I daresay it's time._

_I love you. I am not sorry I read your letter._

_Yours,_

_Elsie Hughes_

Mr. Carson couldn't help the foolish grin that crept across his face as he finished the letter. _Yours_, she had signed it. "She says she's yours, old man," he said to himself. "Yours!" What a clever lass she was, sneaking the letter into his pocket while she pretended to look for some imaginary problem with his coat. Mr. Carson chuckled. They knew one another's ways so well, but she could still surprise him.

_To be continued..._


	3. An Understanding

The next morning, Mrs. Hughes carried a tea tray from the kitchen to her sitting room. Mrs. Patmore had raised an eyebrow at her earlier-than-usual appearance and the tea service for two, but Mrs. Hughes had simply raised an eyebrow right back. That was the end of that, for the time being, though she had no doubt the cook already knew more than she ought. At least she wasn't a talker. Mrs. Hughes sighed audibly as she put the tray down on her table.

"That sounded ominous," came Mr. Carson's voice from the doorway.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes said, smiling warmly at him. "I'm happy to see you."

He walked into the room to stand very close to her. "So it's back to 'Mr. Carson,' now?"

Mrs. Hughes hurried to the door and shut it. "I'll call you Charles if you like, but not in front of the staff," she said, standing with her back to the door.

Mr. Carson nodded sagely. "Very wise."

"Mrs. Patmore has ideas enough, already. No need to give the rest of them something to talk about."

Mr. Carson came closer to Mrs. Hughes. "_Is_ there something to talk about, Elsie?" he asked in a low voice.

Mrs. Hughes's skin prickled. He was so tall, and his voice was so deep, and he was so _near_. "I think that's what we're here to discuss, Charles," she whispered. Mr. Carson advanced again, stopping to stand over Mrs. Hughes, close enough that their toes were almost touching. She blushed when she met his eyes, but she managed a teasing tone in spite of her nervousness. "Have you something to say to me, Charles?"

Mr. Carson said nothing, only reached out and gently, ever so gently, touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Mrs. Hughes could barely breathe and her heart pounded in her ears as she stood locked in his gaze. They had worked together for so many years, but they rarely touched one another. Their fingers brushed occasionally when Mr. Carson handed Mrs. Hughes a glass of wine in the evening, for example, or as they passed plates around at breakfast. There had been a time last summer when Mr. Carson had cut his hand badly and she cleaned and bandaged the wound. They had shared only ordinary conversation while she tended to him, but she had felt a certain intimacy in those moments, touching his hand, caring tenderly for him. And on that dreadful night when he had to announce to the staff that Lady Sybil had died, Mrs. Hughes had thought her heart might break, both from the sorrow of losing that sweet girl so young, but also from seeing Mr. Carson so stricken. She could not help reaching out for his hand in that moment, and he had covered her hand with his other one, as they both quietly grieved for that poor girl together. Now as Mr. Carson stood before her, looking so lovingly at her, the unfamiliar feeling of his fingers on her face was very powerful. In that moment, Mrs. Hughes thought she couldn't have spoken a word if she had tried. She wondered if Mr. Carson felt rooted to the spot like she did, if they might stand so for hours in silence, just staring.

At last Mr. Carson spoke, very quietly. "You're so beautiful, Elsie." He trailed his fingers from her face down her neck, then to her shoulder and down her arm, and took her hand in his.

Mrs. Hughes blushed and found her tongue. "You flatter an old woman, Charles," she said with a smile.

"Old woman?" scoffed Mr. Carson. "Nonsense. You may not be a girl any longer, but no one as sparkling and vibrant as my Elsie could be called old." Mrs. Hughes could only stand still, blushing. "But even someday when you _are_ an old woman you will still be beautiful to me."

"Charles, stop this flannelling right now. The tea is getting cold." She tried to go to the table, but she didn't get far. Mr. Carson maintained his hold on her hand and stilled her movements. She no longer stood with her back to the door, but she again found herself trapped by his gaze.

"Elsie," Mr. Carson said softly. "Elsie, marry me." He cleared his throat. "That is, Elsie Hughes, will you do me the honor of-"

He was silenced when Mrs. Hughes stood on her toes, took him by the shoulders, and kissed him. His arms snaked around her waist and he held on for dear life to this woman who was so precious to him.

When at last she broke the kiss, Mr. Carson finished his sentence. "-becoming my wife?"

"Yes, I will, Charles," she said, her eyes shining, her smile widening. Mr. Carson's smile matched hers as he bent to kiss her again. Her mouth opened and they tasted one another, the world around them spinning out of their thoughts.

"Mrs. Hughes, you're needed in the-" Miss O'Brien's cutting voice was a shock and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sprang apart. There was no doubt she had seen them embracing, kissing, but they both stood their ground, doing their best to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Miss O'Brien's face at first briefly registered shock, but she quickly assumed a mild sneer. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said sourly.

"A knock on the door wouldn't have gone amiss," Mrs. Hughes answered sharply, controlled fury written across her face. "What is it you want, Miss O'Brien?"

"Mrs. Patmore wants you. It's about the store cupboard again."

Mrs. Hughes gritted her teeth. "Very well, tell her I'll come."

"You can tell her yourself, Mrs. Hughes. I'm not a footman." And Miss O'Brien turned on her heel and stalked off.

"Well, I'd better go," she said to Mr. Carson, rolling her eyes.

"I'll see you at breakfast." He kissed her cheek and she gave him a little smile before walking briskly down the hall.

Mr. Carson had watched her exchange with Miss O'Brien with interest. He preferred not to be on the receiving end of it, but secretly he liked to see Mrs. Hughes in a temper from time to time. She was a force of nature, his Elsie. She was always beautiful to him, but there was a certain fire about her when she was indignant or exasperated that he found very appealing. He hoped he never intentionally provoked her just to see it. Mr. Carson shook his head. No, he didn't need to provoke her intentionally. He knew very well that he regularly annoyed her without even trying. He laughed to himself as he left Mrs. Hughes's sitting room.

#####

"Papa, what's the matter?" Lady Mary asked, entering the library later that morning. "You look..."

"Startled? Flabbergasted? Bewildered?" Lord Grantham mused, looking into the fire. He sat on the sofa with a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand.

Lady Mary looked at her father with concern. "Tell me what's happened," she said, coming to stand in front of him.

"It's Carson."

Her hand went to her throat. "What about Carson?" she demanded quietly. "Don't try to spare me, Papa. Give me all of the bad news at once."

The earl broke out of his reverie and smiled, standing up and taking his daughter's hand to reassure her. "There's nothing wrong with Carson, Mary. There's no bad news at all. Just very, very surprising news. To me, that is. I suppose the rest of the house probably knew all about it ages ago," he said, with a self-deprecating laugh.

Lady Mary only looked at him, her dark eyes demanding some explanation of her father.

"Carson's going to be married."

Lady Mary sat down hard on the sofa, well and truly shocked.

Lord Grantham laughed and sat beside her. "I'm glad to see that for once I'm not the last to know."

"Married! To whom? Anyone we know?"

"To Mrs. Hughes."

"Will wonders never cease!"

"Indeed. They both asked that I express their apologies for their timing, so soon after your bereavement."

"Nonsense, they cannot put off their happiness due to our tragedy."

"That is what I said. They intended to wait to make the announcement, but O'Brien forced the issue by her apparent inability to knock before entering a room."

"I don't understand."

"Well, apparently she walked into Mrs. Hughes's sitting room right after the proposal and discovered them..."

Lady Mary covered her mouth, laughing, and stood briefly to ring the bell. "Oh, Papa, this is just the sort of news I needed to hear. Another romance downstairs. How long has this been going on, I wonder. Do you know?"

Lord Grantham shook his head. "No, and I didn't ask. She accepted his proposal this very morning, but as for the rest, I don't suppose it's any of my business."

"I imagine we'll find out soon enough. News has a way of traveling in this house."

Mr. Carson entered the room in response to the bell.

"Ah, Carson!" Lady Mary said, crossing the room to stand before the butler. "I hope I'm one of the first to congratulate you. Papa has told me your news."

Mr. Carson kept his accustomed dignified posture, but his face softened into a smile. "Thank you, milady. We're very sorry to cause such a fuss while the house is in mourning."

"Yes, I know, his lordship explained everything," Lady Mary answered, rolling her eyes. "Leave it to O'Brien to cause trouble." She kissed Mr. Carson's cheek. "Congratulations, Carson. I'm very happy for you both. When will you tell the staff?"

"We intend to make an announcement in the servants' hall at luncheon today."

"Oh, to be a fly on _that_ wall!" Lady Mary said with a smile.

Mr. Carson nodded. "Indeed."

_To be continued..._


	4. Announcement

**Thanks everyone for reading, and for your lovely reviews! They give me something to smile or even chuckle about when I'm having a bad day, which I greatly appreciate. **

**Thanks to Julian Fellowes, who has written all of these wonderful characters. Thanks to the actors who have brought JF's words to life, most especially Phyllis Logan and Jim Carter.**

"Mrs. Patmore, please bring Daisy to the hall for a moment."

"Right now, Mr. Carson?" asked Mrs. Patmore.

"Yes, right now, Mrs. Patmore. I have an announcement to make to the staff. Everyone's gathered for luncheon and Ivy's serving."

Mrs. Patmore shrugged her shoulders. "You heard the man, Daisy." The two women followed Mr. Carson from the kitchen to the servants' hall, where the rest of the staff were waiting to eat. They stood when Mr. Carson entered.

He took his place at the head of the table and when he sat down, the rest of the servants sat as well, ready to eat. Only Mrs. Patmore, Daisy, and Ivy remained standing. Mr. Carson glanced briefly at Mrs. Hughes, seated as usual to his right, and she smiled slightly, her eyes crinkling merrily. They exchanged a nod and Mr. Carson spoke.

"Before you all eat I have an announcement to make," he said in a solemn voice. "I don't need to remind you all that Downton Abbey is in mourning, but a bit of happy news can be enjoyed calmly, with respect shown to the family." There was silence in the hall. Mr. Carson didn't need to be standing to command a room. "I must trouble you all for your congratulations. Mrs. Hughes and I are going to be married."

There was complete stillness for a moment, before Mrs. Patmore broke the silence. "About time!" she said in an exasperated tone, but she was grinning. She threw a quick wink to Mrs. Hughes, who only shook her head and tried not to laugh.

And the room was suddenly in pandemonium, everyone talking at once, many of them standing to approach the head of the table. Mr. Carson's face showed his consternation at the commotion and he placed his hands on the table to stand and call the staff sternly to order, but Mrs. Hughes put her hand over one of his and shook her head. He held her gaze for just a moment before relaxing to receive the congratulations of the many who came forward to shake his hand.

Mr. Carson was surprised at what appeared to be the sincerity of Mr. Barrow's words. "You've shocked us all, I think, Mr. Carson, but I can see that Mrs. Hughes is happy," he said, with a gesture to the housekeeper, who smiled, rosy-cheeked, as she received congratulations from the staff. "She's been kind to me, Mr. Carson, and I hope you are always kind to her as well."

"As do I, Mr. Barrow," Mr. Carson said gravely. "Thank you." Their eyes met and both men nodded.

Mr. Barrow moved on and Mr. Bates came forward to shake Mr. Carson's hand cordially. Having heard Mr. Barrow's words, he said with a smile, "I know you'll be kind to Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, but if you are not, I'm sure she will have something to say about it."

Mr. Carson chuckled. "Yes, she will." He stopped for a brief glance at his bride-to-be, who was now surrounded by well-wishers, and thought how beautiful she looked, smiling and happy. "But I have no intention of being unkind to my wife."

"Of course not, Mr. Carson. I'm sure you'll both be very happy."

A few feet away, Anna surprised Mrs. Hughes with a fierce hug. "Mrs. Hughes, I can't tell you how glad I am for you, and for Mr. Carson, too. You've been like a mother to me here at Downton, and it's wonderful to see you so happy."

"Thank you, Anna. I am very happy."

"Yes, I can see you are. You're not hiding your smile like you were when I discovered you with that letter yesterday," she said with a sly grin. "I couldn't think what might be in it, but I believe I can guess now."

"Impertinent girl," Mrs. Hughes said, with mock indignation.

Anna laughed. "I'll go now, Mrs. Hughes, so you can receive more good wishes," she said, gesturing to the crowd around them. She gave Mrs. Hughes's arm a brief squeeze and made her way toward Mr. Carson.

In the whole servants' hall, only Miss O'Brien sat silently in her chair, her former comrade Mr. Barrow now speaking to Mrs. Hughes. She had missed her chance. Mr. Carson had surprised her by making the announcement just a few short hours after she had discovered him kissing Mrs. Hughes. In truth, it had not even occurred to Miss O'Brien that the butler and housekeeper would marry. She had assumed that they must have been carrying on an illicit affair and was biding her time, making plans. She had doubted she could bring about the dismissal of both, but had looked forward with relish to the potential for getting rid of the sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued Mrs. Hughes, who had been at least as much trouble to Miss O'Brien in her years at Downton as Mr. Carson had. Her plans now discarded, she sat stewing in her disappointment and discontent. The others could make a fuss and chatter all they wanted, but she found she didn't much care. Some half-hearted words of congratulations when the crowd died down would suffice. She knew neither Mr. Carson nor Mrs. Hughes liked her much, and the feeling was mutual.

After a great deal of bustle and fuss, Mr. Carson looked at his watch and at last put a stop to the general confusion. "Thank you all for your kind words, but I'm afraid you'd better eat now so we can get on with our work. The family must be served as usual, regardless of what goes on downstairs."

The servants all sat and began to eat. Though there wasn't much time to finish luncheon, they still talked amongst themselves about the day's big news. Even the youngest ones, who had not been at Downton long, knew that this was a momentous occasion. It was not unheard of for a butler and housekeeper to be married, but it was an exciting bit of news regardless.

#####

Mr. Carson found himself the topic of conversation at the family dinner that evening. Mrs. Crawley was not feeling up to dinner at the big house and had stayed at home, but Mr. Branson and the dowager countess were present. Mr. Carson felt a curious mix of emotions at his experiences during this strange dinner. He was questioned by various members of the family as he waited at table, which he found distracted him from his work. At least he had James and Alfred to take up his slack. He was also rather embarrassed to be discussing his private life in such a forum. Most of the family gave their sincere congratulations and asked about his plans, but the dowager naturally had a few spiky remarks about maids and footmen pairing off under their noses and leaving their work undone. Still, the most basic fact of the whole affair was enough to make up for all manner of trouble and embarrassment. Elsie Hughes, whom he had loved for years, was going to marry him. In the drawing room after dinner, he felt more comfortable speaking individually to members of the family who still had questions for him. Even the dowager countess followed up her performance in the dining room by giving her warmest wishes to Mr. Carson as he served her after dinner wine; he knew that was just her way - sharp wit coupled with occasional bursts of sentiment. All the same, Mr. Carson was relieved when it was over. He looked forward with impatience to his evening coze with Mrs. Hughes.

_To be continued..._


	5. Tete-a-Tete

Late that evening, when everyone had gone to bed, Mrs. Hughes sat at her desk, working on the accounts she had neglected for the past two days. Yesterday she had written her very bold letter to Mr. Carson instead of looking over her ledgers. Very early today she had received a proposal of marriage and then had spent part of the morning in the library with Mr. Carson and Lord Grantham. There was no relying on Miss O'Brien's discretion for any length of time, so her untimely interruption had rushed them a bit, but Mrs. Hughes could not regret it. The earl had been surprised but pleased for the couple, and offered them a cottage on the estate. Living away from the big house would present some challenges for the butler and housekeeper, but it would be worth the trouble. If Lord Grantham had suggested they continue as they were, living in separate rooms, she would have put her foot down, but no such thing was even mentioned. His lordship had planned to give both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes cottages of their own when they retired, but under these circumstances he was happy to provide them with their own home right away.

Mrs. Hughes went about balancing her account books with a contented smile on her face. She was surprised she could concentrate at all after such a day. Following the announcement at lunch downstairs, everywhere she went in the house, she was stopped by members of the family and staff with well wishes and congratulations. She didn't accomplish nearly as much as she did on an ordinary day. Her rounds were just half-finished by dinnertime, so she could only hope that all her girls had completed their assigned tasks properly and that nothing was amiss upstairs.

There was a knock on the open door of Mrs. Hughes's sitting room and she looked up to find Mr. Carson carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. Her smile widened.

"Hello, Charles," she said softly.

"Hello, Elsie," he answered, with a twinkle (a twinkle!) in his eye. "I thought a drink was in order tonight. To celebrate."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Hughes said. "You pour the wine and I'll finish the last of my work. I'll be just a few minutes."

Mr. Carson agreed and closed the sitting room door. He poured the wine and sat down.

Mrs. Hughes had a few more calculations to make, but Mr. Carson's presence in the room was so distracting to her that she decided to leave the last of it for the next day. She didn't like to waste what little time they could spend together, especially on a day as special as this one. She sighed and went to sit at the table.

"That was fast," he commented.

"It will keep until tomorrow, Charles." She lifted her glass to him, he returned the salute, and they both drank.

After a silence, Mr. Carson spoke. "Elsie, I..." He paused, furrowing his great brow. "I find I don't know quite what to say to you."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Speaking so frankly in a letter is altogether different from doing so in person, I think," she said.

Mr. Carson chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. "Indeed, it is. I wonder how the letter fell out of my pocket. I can't think when I've been so careless with something so precious."

"I'm sure you weren't careless, Charles. We're just lucky it fell into the right hands. It _is_ a very precious letter. I don't think I can bring myself to burn it."

"You've read it now. There's no need to burn it."

"It's in my pocket now, but it's a bit worn, so I'll probably put it away someplace safe soon."

Mr. Carson patted his breast pocket. "I have yours here as well." There was another pause. "I love you, you know," he said softly.

Mrs. Hughes nodded, smiling into the wine glass she held in both hands. "So you wrote."

"I did, but I wanted to tell you myself as well, to hear myself saying it aloud while I watched your face." Mrs. Hughes looked up at him curiously. "It was infinitely better than just knowing you had read the letter."

"Was it?"

"Elsie, did you know that you bite your bottom lip sometimes when you're upset or thoughtful?"

Mrs. Hughes laughed. "Yes, I do know. My mother scolded me about it constantly, but never managed to break me of the habit. She was always telling me how unattractive it was."

Mr. Carson smiled broadly. "I'm afraid I have to disagree with your mother on that. It's my favorite of your little idiosyncracies. It's quite endearing, even tantalizing."

"Oh my!"

"You also do it when you're trying not to laugh or smile. I hoped you might do it for me when I told you I love you."

"Oh, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes said, blushing a little.

"And I got my wish! You're worrying that poor little lip again." Mrs. Hughes let it go, no longer holding her smile back. "Beautiful," Mr. Carson said with satisfaction. "I love that smile." He got up and stood before Mrs. Hughes, holding his hand out to her. She took it and he drew her up and into his arms. She wrapped her arms about his waist and laid her cheek on his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

"Elsie, look at me," Mr. Carson said. She looked up. He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. "Why did I wait so many years to kiss you?" he whispered, more to himself than to her.

"It doesn't matter, Charles," Mrs. Hughes whispered back. "Just think about now." He leaned down again and touched his lips to hers, enjoying the way she felt nestled close to his body. One of his hands drifted from her face down her side to rest on her hip. His tongue teased her lips and she opened to him. The kiss deepened, and Mr. Carson pulled her closer. Her hands roved around his back as she clung to him, but Mrs. Hughes suddenly pulled away from him and glanced toward the door.

"Charles-"

"The door is locked, Elsie," he breathed in her ear, not loosening his hold on her.

She relaxed and slid her arms back around him, this time under his coat. "We'd better be married soon," she said.

"Why is that, my love?" Mr. Carson asked.

"I'm afraid your virtue is very much in danger, Charles," she said mischievously.

Mr. Carson laughed out loud. "Why don't we sit down, my dear."

"Very well," Mrs. Hughes answered, taking him by the hand and leading him to the settee, where they both sat.

"I've received a great many good wishes today, Elsie, since our announcement at lunch."

"So have I!" Mrs. Hughes responded. "I was stopped by so many people today that I didn't have time to finish my rounds."

Mr. Carson drew his great eyebrows together in mock consternation. "We can't have that sort of thing, Mrs. Hughes," he said sternly. "The honor of Downton and the Crawley family depend on you and me to keep this house in excellent order at all times. I'll let it go this once, but I hope I don't hear of you shirking your duties again."

Mrs. Hughes's lips twitched. "Charles Carson, are you poking fun at yourself?"

He fixed her with his most severe look. "And why would I do such a thing, Mrs. Hughes?" he said, in the tone he used with errant footmen.

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes, then laughed. "If you're going to speak that way, I suggest you go look for Alfred or James. I imagine one or the other of them is up to something he shouldn't be. Besides, if you received so many good wishes, I don't think you can claim you didn't shirk some of _your_ duties as well." Mrs. Hughes raised her eyebrows in challenge.

Mr. Carson relaxed his frown and smiled at her. "Very well, I acknowledge that I was perhaps less thorough in my duties than usual. Like you, I was stopped nearly at every turn by family members and staff alike." He paused, looking thoughtful. "It was quite interesting, Elsie, how they chose to express their congratulations to me."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, there were all of the usual comments one hears when an engagement is announced, but a good number of them, especially staff, followed up by admonishing me to take good care of you, and to be kind to you." He looked up at Mrs. Hughes to see how she reacted to this.

"Oh, Charles," she said, "_I_ know you'll always be kind to me. You mustn't mind what they say."

He smiled. "I know, dear. But it was clear that you have many friends and defenders here. They respect me, of course, but it's _you_ they love." He took her hand and kissed it. "And who could help loving you, Elsie? I couldn't."

Mrs. Hughes smiled, biting her lip, and leaned her head against Mr. Carson's chest, draping her arm around his middle. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I do love you, Charles."

"So you wrote," he answered, echoing her earlier words.

She loved the way his voice rumbled in her ear when she was resting against his chest. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. She could easily fall asleep sitting like this, after such a busy, though joyful, day. She yawned and only a few seconds later she did just that.

Mr. Carson smiled at Mrs. Hughes as she slept, curled up against him. He would have to wake her soon and send her to bed, but he would let her sleep for a while. He was sure he'd never felt as happy as he did in this moment.

_To be continued..._


	6. Love and Regret

Mrs. Hughes walked briskly down the hall and knocked on the door to Lady Mary's parlor.

"You wanted to see me, milady?" she said, coming to stand in front of the young woman. "How can I help?"

Lady Mary gave a small smile. "Please sit down, Mrs. Hughes," she said softly, indicating the seat right beside her on the settee.

Mrs. Hughes was surprised, but complied with her request. She smiled gently at Lady Mary and waited.

"Mrs. Hughes, I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement to Mr. Carson," she began.

"Thank you, milady, but you've already given us your good wishes," Mrs. Hughes answered.

Lady Mary shook her head. "No, I mean that I wanted to say it to you personally, not just as part of a crowd, with the whole family gathered."

Mrs. Hughes was touched. "Well, thank you milady. I truly appreciate your taking the time to speak to me during what I know is a very difficult time for you."

Lady Mary nodded, swallowing hard. "I've already told Carson to take good care of you," she said, then paused for a moment. "I doubt it's any great secret that I'm one of his favorites, as he said to me once. Even if no one else knew it, I'm sure_ you_ noticed, Mrs. Hughes." Mrs. Hughes tried to suppress a little laugh, without success. Lady Mary smiled. "I'm very grateful to have had Carson as a champion all these years, and I'm so glad to see him made happy. It's...it's obvious he loves you very much."

Mrs. Hughes could see that Lady Mary was a little afflicted, so she spoke to her gently. "Thank you for your kind words, milady, but we needn't speak of it further if it distresses you. I'll go now if you'd prefer to be alone." She started to rise, but Lady Mary stopped her.

"Please don't go, Mrs. Hughes," she said, putting a hand on Mrs. Hughes's arm. Her eyes were bright with tears, but she continued speaking in a shaky voice. "This is rather a confusing time for me. I miss Mr. Crawley so dreadfully, but how wonderful it was for the short time we were together. I-I wish everyone could be that happy." Here she dissolved into tears, covering her face with her hands. Mrs. Hughes gathered the weeping woman into her arms and spoke soft words of comfort. Lady Mary removed her hands from her face and wrapped her arms around the housekeeper's waist, leaning her head on the older woman's shoulder. Mrs. Hughes had never lost a husband, but she had known grief, and she was glad she could help this young widow to mourn. Though Mrs. Hughes had not loved Lady Mary as Mr. Carson did, she cared for her, as she did for all the family, and felt all the unfairness of her losing her young husband so senselessly, on the very day of their child's birth. She spoke soothingly as she held her, allowing Lady Mary to shed as many tears as she needed to.

After a few minutes, Lady Mary was still weeping, but she started to speak brokenly into Mrs. Hughes's shoulder. "When I think of the years...oh, the wasted years...I loved him then...before the war...why didn't I tell him...do something? If I'd told him...told him then...not just let him go...so many more happy years. But I wasted so much time. I loved him. I loved him!" She was so agitated that she couldn't speak further, but only continued to cry into Mrs. Hughes's shoulder.

Mrs. Hughes stroked Lady Mary's back and spoke to her gently. "Milady, you mustn't think that way. What's past is past, and as you said yourself, you had many happy times together."

"If only I had-"

Mrs. Hughes cut her off, speaking softly but firmly. "If only I had told Mr. Carson I loved him years ago."

Lady Mary went still and silent in her arms for a moment. "What?"

"We've wasted some time ourselves, looking at it your way," Mrs. Hughes said.

Lady Mary pulled away from the housekeeper and sat up to look at her questioningly.

"Mr. Carson and I have come to an understanding, but if one or the other of us had spoken sooner, it might have happened years ago. We-we've loved each other for a long time."

"I-I didn't know," Lady Mary said, looking at Mrs. Hughes with some wonder in her eyes.

"How would you, milady? No one knew. I didn't know myself until I was well into it."

"That's how it was for me as well," Lady Mary whispered.

Mrs. Hughes felt a little strange revealing so much of herself to Lady Mary Crawley, of all people, but she plunged on, somehow certain that this was the right thing to do. "Even when I knew my heart, I didn't speak. There seemed to be so many obstacles between us, and I was afraid. But even so, we were together. We saw one another every day. We were friends. Not husband and wife, but not parted. Just as you and Mr. Crawley were friends. I saw how you cared for him when he was wounded and were kind to poor Miss Swire, for his sake."

"It was all very strange, Mrs. Hughes. Both of us engaged to be married to other people, that horrid war, the Spanish flu. When I think of that time, it is all chaos in my mind."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "It was a dreadful time."

Lady Mary had a sudden realization. "And to think I might have parted you and Carson, when I almost took him off to Haxby with me!"

"Almost, milady," Mrs. Hughes said softly.

"So we've both had our share of wasted chances, then."

"Yes, we have. But I try to think of what we had, rather than what we didn't. I won't tell you not to mourn for him, Lady Mary, but I hope you'll take my advice and try not to think so much on what you_ didn't_ do. Weep in sadness because he is not here now, but not in anger at yourself. It will only make you even more unhappy."

Lady Mary was silent for a while, taking in all that she had heard, and considering Mrs. Hughes's advice. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Well, you've given me a great deal to think about. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

"You're welcome, milady," Mrs. Hughes said, rising from the settee and standing before Lady Mary as she had when she first arrived. "Is there anything I can get for you? Tea, perhaps?"

Lady Mary shook her head. "No, there's nothing. You've done a great deal already. I-I think I needed someone to be firm with me, to challenge me."

Mrs. Hughes nearly laughed. "I think Mr. Carson will tell you that I can be counted on to do both of those things, and a great deal worse."

Lady Mary smiled faintly. "I'm glad. It would never do for Carson to marry a woman who let him have his way all the time. He's used to ruling the house at Downton, but that's not how it works when you love someone."

"You're right about that. Now I'll take my leave, milady. Please tell me if there's anything else I can do."

Lady Mary clasped her companion's hand briefly. "I will, I promise. Good day, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Hughes nodded and left the room. She was deep in thought as she headed for the stairs, and did not notice Mr. Carson watching her as she passed the entrance to the corridor in which he stood. He might never tell her that he had stopped to listen at the door when he had heard Lady Mary weeping, but he would always be grateful for her kindness to that poor young woman he'd loved since she was a child.

_To be continued..._


	7. The Knot

Mrs. Hughes was not surprised to find herself awake much earlier than usual. She donned one of her everyday black dresses and pinned her hair up just as she did every morning, but she also pulled some other items from the wardrobe to make sure all was ready. She and Mr. Carson had agreed to keep their wedding very quiet, both out of respect for the family in mourning and out of a desire to be married as soon as possible, and this was the day they had chosen. The cottage was ready for them, so there was no reason to delay. They wanted Mr. Bates, Anna, and Mrs. Patmore to be present, but had told no one else that today was the day they had arranged to go to Ripon and be married in the register office. They planned to start the day as though it were an ordinary one, and then to depart quietly after breakfast. When they left together, along with their three invited guests, the rest of the servants would likely guess what was happening, but until then they could keep the secret from the family and the staff, causing as little fuss as possible.

Ivy hadn't yet come up to the attics to announce the six o'clock hour when Mrs. Hughes headed downstairs to her sitting room. She thought it unlikely that she would be able to concentrate on accounts this morning, but she could not stay in her bedroom any longer. She had already checked and rechecked that her clothing for later in the day was ready and there was nothing left to do. At least downstairs there was more to occupy her. She greeted Mrs. Patmore and set about preparing herself a tea tray. She had placed a cup on the tray with the teapot and was about to leave the kitchen when Mrs. Patmore wordlessly added a second cup to her tray. Mrs. Hughes smiled. Mr. Carson must be downstairs already. She was surprised then to find not her fiancé, but Anna, seated at her table.

"Good morning, Anna!" she said. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Tea would be lovely," Anna answered. She noticed the two cups on the tray. "Unless you're expecting someone else?"

"I wasn't expecting to see_ anyone_ in my room at this hour. What brings you here so early, Anna?" she asked.

Anna smiled. "I thought you might like some company. I suspected you'd be up early today."

"You suspected right," Mrs. Hughes said, sitting down and pouring a cup of tea. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"That's a shame. You may not get much sleep tonight either," she said, pouring her own cup.

"Anna!"

Anna laughed. "I'm only teasing, Mrs. Hughes. Don't look so shocked. I am a married woman, after all."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "That's true. I should think you understand more than anyone in this house what it's like for me, for both of us."

"Yes, though you and Mr. Carson have gone about it a bit more slowly than we did."

Mrs. Hughes gave her a look, but didn't argue. "Anna, how is it, living away from the big house?"

Anna looked thoughtful. "It's different. I have to wake up a bit earlier, of course, to get here on time, and sometimes I get home very late. But it's all worth it to have my own home and especially to wake up every morning next to my husband. There's nothing better than that."

"His lordship suggested yesterday the possibility of having a telephone installed in our cottage so we can be reached at any hour," Mrs. Hughes said. "I'm not quite sure how I feel about_ that_, but I suppose as long as Downton pays our salaries and gives us a home, we can't argue much against such a thing."

"But surely Thomas could manage an emergency for as long as it took to have you and Mr. Carson fetched here!"

"That's just what I think," Mrs. Hughes agreed. "What is an underbutler for, if not to take a little of the load from the butler's shoulders?" She shrugged. "But that's a discussion for another day. Lord Grantham mentioned the telephone only offhand and Mr. Carson and I came to an agreement to let his lordship bring it up again if he really wanted it."

"Mr. Carson agreed to that?" Anna said, surprised. "Knowing Mr. Carson, I'd almost expect him to have called the telephone man himself right away and requested to have it immediately installed in the bedroom!"

Mrs. Hughes's lips twitched. "It did take some persuading, the daft man."

"Well, if anyone can persuade Mr. Carson to do something he's not inclined to, it's you, Mrs. Hughes!" Anna said, giggling.

"Heaven knows I've plenty of practice!" she answered, rolling her eyes.

"I don't see that changing anytime soon."

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "No, and nor do I want it to. He can be an infuriating man, but I'll take him just as he is," she remarked with a soft smile.

"Well, I'm glad, though I can't say I think much of this idea of getting married and then coming right back to serve the Crawleys dinner."

"If I remember correctly, you and Mr. Bates did much the same, Anna," Mrs. Hughes reminded her.

"Perhaps, but Mr. Carson isn't under suspicion for a capital crime," she retorted.

"Anna Bates, you're quite cheeky this morning!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed laughingly. "You know why we're going about it the way we are, though. We don't want to wait to be married, and we don't want any fuss when the house is in mourning. It won't be a secret, once we've left for Ripon, but announcing our plans to one and all ahead of time would just cause an unnecessary to-do."

"Of course you're right," Anna agreed with a sigh. "We've had to tell Thomas, since he'll be in charge while we're gone, but I don't think he'll spoil your plans."

"I hope not. He has only to hold his tongue for another few hours and then he can do what he likes." She took a moment to refill their empty cups and spoke again on another subject. "And how is Lady Mary, Anna?"

"Still quite low, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry to hear it, though I suppose it's only to be expected."

"I think you and Mr. Carson have brought her some good moments, though. She really is very happy for both of you, though it's hard for her to say so."

"Poor lamb."

Sounds from the kitchen and servants' hall told the two women that the day was now underway and they rose from their chairs.

"Anna, thank you for keeping me company this morning. Else I'm afraid I'd have spent this last hour pacing my sitting room."

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes. Now we'd better get to work!" And both women hurried upstairs, one to the ground floor and the other to her mistress's dressing room.

#####

"I've thought of something that we need to discuss about our return from Ripon," Mrs. Hughes said to Mr. Carson, as they walked together arm-in-arm.

"And what's that?"

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Just the little matter of my name. I won't be Mrs. Hughes anymore when we get back to Downton, but I thought it would be best not to use my new name until we've announced it, perhaps after dinner."

Mr. Carson pondered this question. "It might come out before then, Elsie."

"I know that, Charles, but if it doesn't...well, it wouldn't do to have Anna or Mr. Bates say something about 'Mrs. Carson' to Lady Mary or his lordship before we've made a clean breast of it to the family."

"Yes, of course," Mr. Carson mused. "Though you know it will go sorely against the grain for me to refer to my own wife as Mrs. Hughes."

"Only for a few hours, Charles," she reminded him.

"You two had better catch up!" Anna called out to them. "We'll miss our bus."

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes hurried to catch up to Mrs. Patmore and Mr. and Mrs. Bates. Before long they had caught the bus and taken the short ride to Ripon. As the party approached the register office, a familiar car came into view.

"Milady!" Mr. Carson exclaimed when Lady Mary Crawley got out of the car. "What are you doing here?"

Lady Mary smiled. "What do you think, Carson? I couldn't very well let you get married without being here to cheer you on, could I?"

"But how did you-?"

"You mustn't blame Anna, Carson. She didn't talk willingly. I had to get out the thumbscrews. But your secret is safe; I didn't tell his lordship. As far as anyone in the house knows, I've gone shopping."

"Very good, milady," Mr. Carson said. He stood back to allow Lady Mary to enter first.

"No, Carson, you and your bride go ahead. It's your wedding day."

Mr. Carson didn't argue. He entered with Mrs. Hughes on his arm, followed by their friends. In less than an hour, the knot was tied, and the party was on its way back to Downton.

#####

"Do you think Mr. Carson will ever recover?" Anna asked Lady Mary, as they stood waiting for the bus. "He didn't look very happy to be shepherded into the back of the car while his staff took an earl's daughter home on the bus."

"I'm sure Mrs. Carson will know how to manage him," she answered, her lips quirking upward.

Anna laughed. "Yes, she's probably the only one who really can, besides _you_, that is. I can't believe you talked him into it, milady."

"I know how to be imperious, Anna. Not a tactic Mrs. Carson employs, I would imagine, but it's effective in its way."

The bus arrived and Lady Mary, along with her maid, the valet, and the cook, took their seats and were on their way. She was seated between Mr. Bates and Anna. It was a curiosity to see such a fine lady on the bus, and some of the other riders had no hesitation in staring at her. However, whether because she was so protectively guarded by her servants, or because she was clearly in mourning, no one spoke to her and after a few minutes even the gawkers had turned away.

_To be continued..._


	8. Return

"I can't believe we're trapped here on the side of the road, just waiting, when there's a dinner to get on the table!" Mr. Carson fumed.

"Calm down, Charles. It's only a flat tire and Mr. Bradley will be back before long." His wife stood beside him, leaning against a fence a short distance from the road. "Besides, even if we_ do_ get back to Downton too late, Thomas and Mrs. Patmore can manage one family dinner without us."

"Yes, but without a word to his lordship or her ladyship, we've both disappeared from the house. It's highly unprofessional."

"Have you already forgotten that Lady Mary knows where we are? She's the one who insisted that we take the car back to Downton while the rest went by bus."

"I wish you had helped me talk Lady Mary out of that," he grumbled. "An earl's daughter should never ride on a bus."

"You wanted me to choose a side in an argument between you and Lady Mary Crawley?" Mrs. Carson scoffed. "Don't be daft!"

He paused. "But I suppose you're right that his lordship will not be angry. All I can say is that Mr. Bradley had better get himself back here soon." Mr. Carson began to pace. "I do not like the idea of spending the afternoon waiting on the side of the road for that damn fool chauffeur to come back and fix the car. He should have already been carrying what he needed to fix a tire. What if it had been Lady Mary here instead and she'd had to wait for-"

"Mr. Carson," Mrs. Carson interrupted sharply. "Lord Grantham will not be angry, but _I_ might be, and soon."

Mr. Carson recognized the steely tone of her voice and knew he needed to tread carefully. He reached for her hand and started to apologize. "I'm sorry, Elsie. I'm sure it will all be fine, just as you say. I only-"

"I've been married for well over half an hour," she said, ignoring him. "And I've yet to get a proper kiss, though we've been alone these last ten minutes at least."

Mr. Carson suddenly relaxed, all thoughts of the tire and the car and tonight's dinner flying out of his mind. He approached Mrs. Carson and took her hands in his. "What an abominable husband you have," he said, smiling down at her.

"Yes," she said crisply, her expression severe but her eyes merry. "Quite abominable."

Mr. Carson took her in his arms and kissed her, kissed her until they were both quite breathless. Within a few minutes, they had made their peace with one another and with their situation. They leaned against the fence, side by side, Mr. Carson's arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Elsie, I'm going to ask Lord and Lady Grantham to allow us a day off together soon."

"That sounds lovely, Charles." Mrs. Carson smiled up at him.

"What would you like to do?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Sleep until I wake up naturally, perhaps. I can't remember the last time I did that. And you?"

"I'll do whatever you're doing," he answered, kissing her cheek. "I'm sorry I can't take you away on a proper honeymoon, Elsie."

"Perhaps you will someday."

"Perhaps I will." He smiled at the thought.

"Charles, I'm rather thirsty, and I believe Mr. Bradley had a sack lunch with him in the car. Shall we go down and see what's there?"

"Certainly, my love." Her offered her his arm and they walked down the slight incline to the car on the side of the road. "The flat tire must be on the other side of the car. The ones on this side look fine."

They reached the car and Mrs. Carson searched the front seat, but found nothing. "I _know_ I saw a paper sack here. Perhaps it's fallen to the floor."

Mr. Carson was on the other side of the car now, examining the tires. He drew his great brows together. "I'm not an auto mechanic, but neither of these tires looks flat to me," he said.

"Don't they? That's odd." Mrs. Carson abandoned her search. "I wonder if-" A thought occurred to her, and she suddenly struck out on the road in the direction Mr. Bradley had gone.

"Elsie, where are you going?" Mr. Carson asked, following her.

Mrs. Carson said nothing, only continued to walk with purpose. She did not look angry, exactly, but she wasn't pleased either. They rounded a bend in the road and came upon Mr. Bradley, sitting on a tree stump and eating a sandwich. Seeing the butler and housekeeper, he stood hastily.

"Mr. Bradley," Mrs. Carson said sharply. Mr. Bradley knew he was in for a tongue-lashing.

"Hello, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson," the young man answered uneasily.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Mr. Carson nearly shouted. "You're on your way to Ripon for repair supplies and you stop to _eat your lunch_ while we wait on the side of the road?"

Mrs. Carson held up her hand in Mr. Carson's direction, indicating that he should be silent. He frowned, but accepted her unspoken command. She regarded Mr. Bradley with a stern gaze for a moment before speaking. "I suppose you're acting on Lady Mary's instructions, Mr. Bradley?" she asked.

Mr. Bradley looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"What?!" Mr. Carson exclaimed.

Mrs. Carson bit her lip, trying to maintain a severe expression, though she wanted to laugh. She turned to her husband. "I believe Lady Mary gave our chauffeur orders to delay our return to Downton. There is no flat tire. Isn't that right, Mr. Bradley?" she asked the clearly nervous young man.

"Yes, milady." He reddened at his mistake. "I mean, yes, Mrs. Hu- Mrs. Carson."

Mrs. Carson kept her lip between her teeth to keep from laughing, but there was no hiding her amusement. "And will you tell us why, Mr. Bradley? Did she wish to give us some time to ourselves, or is there some reason she'd like us to be late getting back?"

"Not late for dinner, Mrs. Carson," Mr. Bradley answered. "Just later than the others."

Mr. Carson could no longer contain himself. "Mr. Bradley," he said in his most authoritative tone. "You will return with us to the car now so that we may go back to Downton at once!"

"If you'll wait just another half an hour, Mr. Carson..."

"Mr. Bradley, may I remind you that I am in charge of all of the staff at Downton Abbey?" Mr. Carson said ominously.

Mr. Bradley gulped, anxiously eyeing the irate butler. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson, but I have my orders from Lady Mary. She-she told me I must delay your return, no matter...no matter what you or Mrs. Carson might say."

Mr. Carson fumed silently, but his wife was holding back laughter. He glared at her. He couldn't see what she found so entertaining. "Well, it appears we have_ our_ orders now, Mr. Carson," she said, taking his arm. "Lady Mary wants us to stay here for a little while longer, so that's just what we'll do." She attempted to gently steer him back in the direction they had come from, but he wouldn't move. He continued to glower at Mr. Bradley. Mrs. Carson rolled her eyes. "We'll be much more comfortable waiting by the fence than beside this dusty road, so unless you propose driving us back to Downton yourself I suggest you come with me," she said. Then, after holding his gaze for a few seconds, she turned on her heel and walked briskly back in the direction of the car. Mr. Carson's eyes followed her for a few steps and then he let his shoulders slump a little. With one last dark look in Mr. Bradley's direction, he strode after her.

Mrs. Carson was walking very quickly, so he didn't catch up right away, but when he did, he found her with tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth.

"Elsie, whatever's the matter?" he asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Just then, they rounded the corner out of Mr. Bradley's sight and she started to laugh. She stopped walking and leaned against him, chuckling into his jacket.

"What's so funny?" he wanted to know.

"Oh, the whole situation is rather absurd, don't you think?" she asked, a little breathless from laughing.

The corners of Mr. Carson's mouth reluctantly turned slightly upward. "Yes, I suppose it is," he mused.

"And then you started breathing fire at poor Mr. Bradley. It took a great deal of effort for me not to start giggling like a schoolgirl, which probably would have undermined your authority and mine!"

Mr. Carson's smile grew and he chuckled. "Probably so."

"Let's go, Charles," Mrs. Carson said, starting to walk again. "We'll be back at Downton before long."

Mr. Carson went with her, letting his arm fall from her shoulders and taking her hand in his. "Yes, you're right. And I'll try to relax now, Elsie. Truly."

She looked up into his eyes and smiled, then squeezed his hand and turned back to watch where she was walking.

_To be continued..._


	9. Generosity

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews. I greatly appreciate every single one of them.**

**Second to last chapter, here, friends! I hope you enjoy it.**

Mr. Bradley let the newly married pair out near the servants' entrance and then drove away. Mr. and Mrs. Carson walked across the deserted yard arm in arm. They stopped on the steps together for a moment.

"Well, here we are, Charles," Mrs. Carson said. "You'll be Mr. Carson again when we're on the other side of this door."

"And you, I suppose, will be Mrs. Hughes again. For now."

She nodded and disengaged her hand from his arm and they entered together. They both immediately noticed that there was a great deal more noise coming from the servants' hall than there ought to be at this time of day. Quickly taking off their coats and hats, they strode forward together to find out what was going on. They reached the hall to find nearly every member of the staff crowded into the room. Everyone seemed to be talking at once.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mr. Carson boomed, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

"They're back!" someone exclaimed. Before they knew it, Mr. and Mrs. Carson had somehow been borne to their accustomed places at the table, where a feast was laid. The staff applauded and then, when they were quiet again, Anna spoke.

"Congratulations, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson. This is your wedding feast."

"When did you do all of this?" asked Mrs. Carson. "How? We thought no one knew." She glanced at her husband, who was still simply looking around the room, astonished.

Mr. Bates answered her. "Almost no one knew until after you left. Mrs. Patmore and Anna and I knew, of course, and Thomas kept everything going here. Mrs. Patmore told Daisy, since she was left in charge of finishing the feast while we were gone."

"But certainly there's work to be done upstairs," Mr. Carson protested.

"Lady Mary fixed it, once I told her," Anna explained. "She asked the dowager to come to Downton after we left to explain it all to his lordship and her ladyship when we were missed."

"It's not often that the butler and housekeeper both leave the house at the same time, along with a valet, a lady's maid, and the cook," Thomas added. "You were sure to be found out. But Old Lady Grantham took care of everything."

"Lady Mary and the dowager planned a buffet lunch for the family so the staff could all celebrate down here with you two lovebirds," Anna said with a smile.

"Well, I must say, I'm very grateful to you all!" Mrs. Carson said, a little overwhelmed. "Thank you for your extra work and thank you for celebrating with us." She looked at Mr. Carson. "We must be sure to thank Lady Mary later for everything she's done."

"Indeed," he said. He met her eyes and something passed between them, as had happened thousands of times before in this very room. Today, though, everything around them fell away and only the two of them stood together, not moving or touching, only looking. After what seemed an eternity, though it was only a few seconds, Mr. Carson took his wife's hand.

"Lady Mary's resting now, but I'm sure you can speak to her a little later," Anna said. "She was tired after we got back from Ripon. And it's nothing to do with the bus, Mr. Carson. She hasn't been out much recently, and the wedding was a bit much for her."

"Thank you, Anna," Mr. Carson said. He sat down and the rest of the servants followed suit.

#####

Later in the afternoon, the feast started winding down. Servants gradually trickled out of the hall and back to work as dinnertime neared, until only Mr. and Mrs. Carson remained at the table, sipping wine and chatting in low tones.

"Today's been so lovely, Charles," Mrs. Carson said.

"The best day of my life," Mr. Carson said, kissing his wife's cheek.

"Charles!" she scolded him, though she smiled while she did it. "Someone will see!"

"They've seen a great deal more today, dear," he answered, raising his eyebrows.

Mrs. Carson rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, thanks to you my maids will be giggling behind my back for the next month at least. I can't believe you did that." She paused, biting her lip. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"You'll find that I'm not entirely predictable, Mrs. Carson," he answered, tilting his head provocatively.

She managed to shoot a look back at him that was somehow both stern and flirtatious, but she could not help flushing at the memory of what had happened here only an hour or so ago. The boisterous, festive spirit in the room had led to a general demand from some of the staff that Mr. Carson kiss his bride. To the surprise of everyone present, including Mrs. Carson, he had obliged. He had stood and pulled her up out of her seat for a kiss, but it was not the quick peck on the cheek that she might have expected. It was not a kiss of the variety that she could only call indecent, like the ones they'd shared late at night in his pantry or her sitting room, scorching kisses that started with lips but ended with tongues and hands and skin, that left her gasping for breath and half expecting to find her clothing a bit singed when she went upstairs to bed. Still, he had, in full view of all the servants, pulled her tightly to him and kissed her very soundly, outlining her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth. It was more melting than scorching, but she knew that the heat that rose to her cheeks was not wholly caused by embarrassment.

"Well, as much as I'd love to sit here and watch you blush, Elsie, I'm afraid it's time for the two of us to get back into uniform," Mr. Carson said regretfully. She nodded and they both rose from their seats.

"That won't be necessary, Carson," Lady Mary said, approaching from the stairs with her father.

"Milady?" Mr. Carson questioned.

"You and Mrs. Carson are not to stay for dinner," Lord Grantham explained. "It's all arranged. Thomas and the others will take care of things in your absence."

"Are you quite certain, milord?" Mr. Carson asked.

"Yes, he is," Lady Mary answered for him. "You're to go home to your cottage right now. Today is Tuesday. We don't want to see either of you back here until Friday morning."

Mr. and Mrs. Carson glanced at one another in surprise. "But what about-" Mr. Carson began.

"Anna and Bates have packed your things and Mrs. Patmore has prepared food enough for several days," Lord Grantham said. "There's a hamper waiting for you at the cottage and your trunks will be taken over by two of the hall boys."

"Well!" Mrs. Carson said, smiling. "It seems you've thought of everything."

Lord Grantham looked at his daughter. "It was almost entirely Lady Mary's doing."

"Thank you both for everything," Mr. Carson said gravely. "Mrs. Carson and I are very grateful." With an affectionate look in her direction, he took his wife's hand in his.

"Well, Carson, we're all of us very grateful for everything you and your good wife have done for the Crawleys over the years. Now be off and enjoy a well-deserved rest on this happy day."

"Friday morning, no sooner," Lady Mary reminded them with a soft smile that included both husband and wife. "Or I'll turn you both out of the house myself."

_To be continued..._


	10. Magnificent

The grey morning light filtered through the windows of the cottage and Mr. Carson opened his eyes and turned to look at his wife, who was still at rest. He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with one hand so he could watch her sleep. He almost couldn't believe it was all real. Everything had happened so quickly and certainly not on his own timetable, but he was glad he had dropped his letter in the passage. He knew that he would have spoken even if she hadn't unexpectedly happened upon the letter - no doubts or fears had lingered in his mind by the time he wrote the letter - but his wish to choose the perfect moment had delayed him. Instead, fate and his Elsie had chosen it for him, and he could hardly imagine a more perfect moment, or a more perfect result. A brief engagement, a quiet wedding with a few friends present, their own home on the Downton estate, and even a little holiday. Until now, Mr. Carson had had difficulty imagining what he might do with himself when he retired. He had always known the day would come, but the prospect had seemed a little gloomy to him. He needed a few hours alone in his pantry here and there to keep from going mad, but he was so accustomed to being always surrounded by noise and people that he expected retirement to be a rather lonely business. As he watched his sleeping wife, however, he knew that things were altered now. Perhaps it wouldn't be so very long before they both left service, to enjoy each other's company without having to worry about dinners and linens and the endless list of other tasks required to keep the great house running smoothly.

Mrs. Carson stirred a little, and Mr. Carson turned his attention back to her. He draped his free arm across her, his hand resting on her hip. "Mmmmm," she sighed contentedly.

"Good morning, Elsie."

"It's Friday, isn't it?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"Yes, love, our idyll is over for now," he said, kissing her cheek.

Mrs. Carson sighed. "No rest for the wicked."

#####

Mr. Carson had thought he couldn't be any happier than he already was, but surprisingly, returning to work had shown him another source of contentment. As he went about his work, as usual Mrs. Carson crossed his path many times, and just as before she was the neat and efficient housekeeper that kept Downton running smoothly. They chatted as they walked up and down the stairs together and managed difficult situations and staff in their accustomed orderly fashion. Before he knew he loved_ her_, he had loved the way they worked together. He loved how they could communicate across a crowded room with just a glance, a nod, or a slight inclination of the head. He loved how she kept pace with him up and down stairs, through rooms and down hallways, in spite of his significant advantage in height. He even loved her matchless timing when they were having a disagreement, the way she often made sure to get the last word by retorting just as they separated at a doorway or the top of the stairs, rolling her eyes as her heels clicked purposefully away from him. He had treasured the harmony they had, even in disharmony. It was one of the things that had held him back, at first, from confessing his feelings to her. If she had not returned them, he had feared that the wonderful_ something_ they shared would be destroyed forever, to be replaced by awkwardness, wariness, or even coldness. He could see now that the affection that had grown between them for so many years had likely been the reason that their professional association had been so warm and congenial. He rejoiced in the knowledge that this special rapport had not changed. Not only could he go on as before, running Downton as it should be run, with her always at his side, but he also had the fresh joy of knowing that he would wake every morning with her beside him, knowing that she would be with him even when he left Downton, and knowing what she looked like under that heavy black dress. He knew things about her that no one else did, and he was sure he would continue to learn. He relished the prospect.

#####

Mrs. Carson could hear the maids giggling and whispering when her back was turned, and she rounded on them with a severe look. "Back to your work, girls," she said firmly. "And I won't have any more of that cheek!" The three maids scattered back to the bedrooms and she strode off in another direction. She had expected a little impertinence from the young ones after Mr. Carson's astonishing behavior at their wedding feast, so their conduct had not surprised her. Another woman might have blushed, but she was made of stern stuff, and had decades of experience managing a large staff. It would take more than a little girlish impudence to disturb her composure. She smiled to herself as she made her way down the hall, recalling all of the things that _could_ make her blush. She knew she would never think of her husband in quite the same way when she saw him in his starched and spotless uniform, now that she knew what it concealed. She bit her lip, almost giggling like the maids she had just finished scolding. She was so thoroughly happy that she couldn't help herself.

Mr. Carson was somewhere in the house, and sooner or later they would meet again. And though his eyes might flick up and down her figure when he saw her, he would speak to her as the professional she was about whatever business might need to be discussed. They might then separate again, or he might follow her up or down a flight of stairs to see to some task on which one needed the other's input. Their professional affinity, which she had come to value so much over the years, had not changed, but at last they had also discovered in each other so much more than that. She now had a husband and lover, but she had not lost her dear friend and colleague.

#####

That night they walked home together, hand-in-hand. It seemed odd to be leaving the big house at night, but Mrs. Carson knew she would become accustomed to it before long. They talked about this and that, much as they used to do at the end of the day in her sitting room or his pantry, and when they reached home Mr. Carson helped his wife out of her coat. As he shed his own coat, she wandered into the parlor and sat down on the settee. Before long her husband followed and came to sit beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"How are you, Elsie?" he asked tenderly.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm very happy," she said simply. "And you?"

"I'm very happy, too."

With his free hand, Mr. Carson stroked her cheek. "I don't think I've told you, Elsie, that you're magnificent."

"Magnificent! No, I think I'd remember if you had. But you've paid me plenty of compliments, Charles. You know very well I don't need your constant praise," she said, still smiling.

He ignored her protest. "Nevertheless, I must say it, because it is true. Everything about you is magnificent. The way you walk, the way you talk, the eloquence of every expression of your face. You're not a girl who isn't quite sure who she is or how she should behave; you're a woman full of life and purpose. You are so marvelously..." He paused, searching for the right word.

She chuckled. "I'm so marvelously what?"

He laughed with her. "I don't know. You're just so marvelously _you_. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whether you're scolding your maids or managing Mrs. Patmore, or even giving_ me_ a dressing-down, you're, well...magnificent."

"Scolding and managing; high praise indeed!"

"Or comforting a young widow." She looked at him questioningly. "I heard what you said to Lady Mary. About us, and about regret. You were very kind to her, Elsie."

"I know you love her, Charles, and for your sake I try to love her as well."

"That means a lot to me, my dear."

"I'll not take back anything I've said about her over the years, but I will admit she's improved a great deal recently, especially since she married."

His lips quirked. "And do you think you'll be improved by marriage, Elsie?"

"Married to you?" she scoffed, smirking. "I should think I'll get worse!" He laughed out loud at that and she slid out of his arms and got up to leave the room. She paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder at her husband. They exchanged a glance full of meaning; affection, attraction, invitation, challenge. She lifted her eyebrows and dashed out of the room, her husband darting after her. He caught up with her just inside the bedroom door.

#####

Later that night as they lay tangled up together, Mr. Carson's last thought before falling asleep was of a telephone. A telephone which he was now determined would_ never_ be installed in his home.

_THE END._

**Thank you for going on this journey with me. The writing has been enjoyable, though occasionally frustrating (but that's just how writing is, eh?), and it's been great spending time with these wonderful characters. Most of all, I appreciate your reviews and support. I hope you've enjoyed my little story. I look forward to future adventures in fanfiction.**


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